


Across the room

by EBDaydreamer



Series: AU August [8]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1920s, F/M, Gen, Implied Sexual Content, Light Angst, it could be any doctor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-31
Updated: 2017-09-01
Packaged: 2018-12-22 02:36:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11957949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EBDaydreamer/pseuds/EBDaydreamer
Summary: Once the closest of friends, now complete strangers. Many men and women were lured to the speakeasies by the promise of booze, but for a certain cop it’s all about the singer stood across the room.





	1. Siren's Call

**Author's Note:**

> For doctorroseprompts on tumblr: 'Roaring 20s AU with Rose as a singer in a jazz club (bonus points for Rose in a flapper dress)'

He shouldn’t be here.

_Sparkling. Short, shimmering, sultry dress; cropped locks as golden as sunshine; champagne glass raised in cheers to the music, to the freedom: all under dim lighting._

He really shouldn’t be here.

_Sexy. Enticing dark red lips; creamy legs on display; skilled yet sinful dancing: all eyes on her._

He should go.

_Angelic. Heavenly voice. Divine beauty. Ethereal presence. She stands in her celestial glow on the stage across the room._

He should really, really go.

Far from the first cop lured to a speakeasy, for him it wasn’t about the booze. It was her. It was always her. The girl (woman, now) he came across the Atlantic with, hoping for something better than the prisons of home. He wouldn’t talk to her - couldn’t - but he had never resisted her siren’s call.


	2. Nothing Changes

She spotted him.

Every Tuesday night without fail, he was there, perched on a lonely table far away from the stage. His eyes never left her. After one drink he sat and stayed still until her set was over and he left.

Not tonight.

Instead of her usual touch-up during her break, she marched straight over to his table, pulled up a chair and sat. Resting her chin on her hand, she stared at him. And waited. And watched. He carried on staring; she carried on waiting. Nothing had changed.

She studied him. Still handsome, still skinny. His face was older, so were his eyes. But that was ok: so was she, so were her’s. Older; aged by all they’d seen, all they’d been through; scarred.

They were different people now, but they were still them.


	3. Down the Rabbit Hole

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also fulfils the prompt 'stay'

She had come over, she had sat. They didn’t talk.

She returned to work and he carried on watchin g her.

He didn’t leave after her set.

She came back over, they talked. Nothing big nothing important.

Hand-in-hand. Goosebumps trailed up her arms as they walked the cold night streets.

In her flat, he pushed her against the door. Lipstick was smeared, buttons were undone. Pent up desire came bubbling to the surface as they pawed at each other like teenagers.

Except they weren’t teenagers. They were adults with experience - in all aspects of life. His lips moved up her jaw to her ear, teeth tugging at her earring as she gave up on his shirt and tore it completely. Hungrily, his lips returned to hers, fingers toying with her straps. Her hands were scraping his scalp and he groaned into her lips, hips searching for friction. Her legs wrapped around his and he hoisted her up off the floor, pressing her more firmly against the wall for support. One hand stayed by her waist to hold her still whilst the other trailed up her leg and- oh, her hands were back in his hair: marvellous, fantastic, molto bene.

When his wandering hand met her underwear she managed to gasp, “Bed, now.” They stumbled across her flat until he found the bedroom. He lowered her gently to the bed and crawled atop of her. It had been nearly ten years since they first met, and he’d been waiting for this moment for almost as long. He wanted to take his time, to cherish her, but they’d fallen down the rabbit hole. Neither of them cared about slow or tender when it felt like the other could vanish at any given moment.

It was a flurry of lips and a tangle of limbs that resulted in them breathless and sweaty.

They lay side by side and he expected her to ask him to leave. Instead, he heard her breathing deepen. For now, it was an invitation to stay.


	4. So Close

It was the war’s fault.

Everything was, wasn’t it? 

By the time war broke out, they’d been in America for two years. Their home country was fighting, their men - their friends - were dying; America stayed away.

He couldn’t stand by and watch - of course he couldn’t, her brave, selfless idiot. He went home and fought. She stayed and gave him somewhere to return to.

She ignored the voice saying ‘if’.

They had been toeing the line of something more than friends for ages. They were so close. So close, yet still so far.

She knew he was alive, but had no idea he was back in America. The first time she saw him across the club her heart skipped a beat and she nearly forgot the line. He was there and he was real but he wasn’t home. He wasn’t with her.

She watched him sleep, tracing the delicate stress lines on his face. Maybe this could be it? This one could be real. They could finally make it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this little story!


End file.
